Penny for the Guy
by J. Lucy-Daisuke
Summary: America finds out that Britain's been holding out on a holiday, and wants to experience it for himself... Much to Britain's reluctance.


Well, when I suggested series to write for, this one was suggested to me, and immediately popped out… So, in the spirit of the season, a Hetalia fanfic. Now, I beg of you—I haven't written for this series before, so… Please be kind, haha.

Hetalia  
Penny for the Guy

Knock knock.

"Please don't be France… Please don't be France…" Britain shut his eyes tightly, and curled up in a tighter ball on his couch.

"HEY! Britain! Yo, open up, dude! I'm freezing my McNuggets off, out here!"

"Bloody hell!... Please be France, please be France…."

A few jiggles of the door handle, and the loud yank had barged his way in. It was the Industrial Revolution all over again.

"Hey, your door was jammed!"

"Not… Really… What are you doing here?"

"Dude! I found out you've been holding out on me!" America chuckled, kicking the door behind him closed and cheerfully plopping on the couch next to Britain. Immediately, it could be seen that they were not alone.

"…What on earth... Is THAT supposed to be?" Britain poked at the stuffed potato sack with his foot, and cringed a bit as it slumped forward.

"Can't you tell? It's supposed to be a Guy Fawkes doll! Made it myself! Used some of Russia's potato sacks, and China gave me the newspaper I needed to stuff it! The jacket's from France. I guess it's last season so it's tacky now or somethin'. Why he'd own more than one jacket, I don't even know. It's a miracle he's in pants, most of the time."

"I haven't seen one of these in years… A-And it's not a doll, you twit! Where'd you even hear about that!?"

"Haha, Internet! I heard it's like Halloween, but with fire, so I am ALL over this!"

"…What…?"

"Take a look!" Britain's eyes widened as America retrieved, seemingly from nowhere, what he first thought to be a keg, and set it down on the center of the coffee table. And he paled as he saw the fuse at the end of the thing. "Beautiful, huh?! Enough firepower to make even your eyebrows burn off if you're not careful!"

"G-GET THAT OUT OF HERE, THIS INSTANT!" Britain's voice cracked, and he slid to the back of the couch, although right now all he wanted to do was take cover behind it.

"Okay, okay… I can still use this, right?" Britain flipped over the couch, finally taking the incentive to use it as a barrier, after America pulled out a large-barreled gun. "Relax! It's just a flare! No biggie!"

"Q-Quit waving it around!"

"…This is mortifying…" Britain grumbled beneath his breath, clutching on to the handle of the red wagon to the point where his knuckles had started to whiten. America walked beside him, half-eaten hamburger in hand, and trailing behind them was the sad-looking burn effigy, slumped over now in the red wagon, seemingly neutral to the ride.

There were a few glances as they walked down the streets, and Britain shuddered at the sound of a giggle. When he felt he could take no more, he stopped in front of the stoop of a boarded up shop, unceremoniously dropping the handle to the wagon.

"There you are, we're here."

"All right! So, what now?"

"I go somewhere a few blocks away and pick you up here in a few hours. Possibly while I'm drunk."

"No, seriously, come on! Do we burn it here, now?" America reached into his jacket, and Britain was quick to grip America's hand, and remove the matches from it.

"No! That's arson! Why are you so obsessed with the fire part!?"

"Because I love Michael Bay movies! So the thought of not having to wait until July to make my own one—What's not to love about that?!"

"…Sit down…" Britain pointed to the stoop, and America did so, taking along the effigy with him and propping it up. The hastily-drawn face, created with a black marker, still unnerved Britain—Walled eyes and all. Britain himself pulled out a pen, and picked up a bit of cardboard from the ground. He sat in the red wagon as he wrote, America occasionally looking over his shoulder.

"Penny for the Guy?" America read. "Seriously? I'm asking for pennies? We're tripping over those things! Do you guys really need some? We can send them over, I'll just empty out my dryer vent when I get back home."

"T-That's not the point…"

"So what am I asking for change for, then?"

"Usually it's to pay for things to burn… That... Thing… With. But I assure you I'll foot the bill for that. More often than naught, the money would end up going to buy candy."

"Wait, so free money to buy lighter fluid and chocolate?"

"E…Eh… Well, when you put it like that… But it's still more than that! Now, here. Take your cup and hold up your sign."

"…Jeeze… You know, I'm starting to see why we don't have this where I am, Rudy Guliani would be blowing a gasket about now…" America muttered, accepting his tin can and peering into it briefly.

Britain rolled his eyes, but remained there, seated in the red cart, watching the people walk by alongside America. He occasionally looked down at his watch. At five minutes, he still had hope. At ten, he was mildly annoyed. At twenty, the annoyance was transforming into worry.

He bolted up from his spot, and America cocked his head immediately. Britain took off running, calling out, "I'll be right back!"

"He must've eaten some of his own cooking again," America chuckled as he watched Britain dash around the corner.

Britain stopped in front of the first store he came to, and, after a few false starts, he ran into a small group of children.

Holding up a fiver, he knelt down in front of the three children, "I need you to do me a favor… I need you to take this penny to my friend around the corner, and put it in his cup. You'll know him when you hear him. He's extremely loud and smells like cooking grease."

"Ten and it's a deal," the tallest boy, standing in the middle, said. Britain flinched, but reached behind for his wallet.

"Each," added another boy. Britain paused, inhaled deeply, and the penny, along with thirty of his hard-earned quid, went with the young boys around the corner. Then Britain waited, and breathed a sigh of relief as he heard an exclamation of excitement from America. Even from this distance, America's happy cheering filled the air.

"…Twit…" Britain chuckled as he placed his wallet back in his pocket.

"Huh, guess it's not enough to buy candy," America looked down in the cup, and Britain craned his head over, and looked inside the near-empty cup, holding only a few coins.

"Don't worry," Britain sighed. "This will be on me…"

"Seriously!?" America perked up immediately, and Britain gave a small nod.

"Only if you let me throw the first match on this bastard," Britain replied, looking to the deflated Guy.

By the time they returned to Britain's home, however, Britain looked over the lumpy, tacky potato sack and felt a twinge of sadness at the thought of burning it.

So it was decided that instead some firewood would do. And instead of the high-powered powder keg, America was delegated to some sparklers and taffy, neither of which he seemed to mind much as the two stood in the back yard.

"Eh, it's not Halloween, but it's still pretty cool," America admitted. "Kinda neat to have a holiday with fireworks that isn't full of awkward."

"…I suppose so…" Britain cleared his throat, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. Both turned their attentions skyward as a familiar whistling noise was heard in the distance. America stood from his half-crouched position that he'd held while setting off sparklers, and both watched in a rare quiet moment as the first fireworks of the night zoomed up the cool and darkened night sky, graying it as it left smoke after blowing up into some brilliant color.

"…All right, I think this makes it really cool," America nodded, and Britain couldn't help it. There, for a brief moment, was a small wash of pride. "Hey, would it be really weird if I invited you over to watch this in July at my place?"

"Are you kidding? An entire holiday celebrating how I don't have to carry you on my shoulders anymore?" Britain laughed. "I'll bring the bloody gunpowder over for that."

"Dude, as long as you promise not to cook or put the beer at room temperature you can bring whatever you want for all I care."

"…I suppose enough time's passed, now, hasn't it? That could be a nice change of pace."

"Oh! Also, I wanted to ask if I could use that giant baby inflatable you guys had at the Olympics. I'm trying to make an ultimate haunted house for next Halloween, and that thing was scary as shit!"

"…You were doing so well, too," Britain sighed. And the two continued to watch the fireworks firing off in all directions around them, not saying much else, just enjoying the rare quiet that the night brought.


End file.
